Black and White
by BloodColoredRose
Summary: Post season 2 The eternal black knight remains by the side of the white king, even though the knight has lost his chance of stealing away the snow-white purity of the king's soul for himself. Even though the king's white façade is stained, tainted, by the darkness within. The thought perplexes Ciel as he attempts to sleep. Because the world is no longer black and white.


**Hi everyone! Again, this is a Sebastian x Ciel Black Butler one-shot. Therefore, I own nothing! And (if you haven't noticed by now), this is a boy x boy story (no lemons, though). If you don't like that kind of stuff, please don't read. If you do, then what are you waiting for? Remember, reviews are love! If I have the right motivation, maybe (just maybe), I'll make this into a multi-part fic. **

**So what are you waiting for? Enjoy!**

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**~Black and White~**

Not all things are as they appear to be. The sun kisses the world goodnight, seemingly sympathetic to the ever-reaching, pudgy hands of the children on Earth, but coldly uncaring as it sinks below the horizon, allowing the chill of darkness to drown the earth with its malevolence. The innocent robin murders the worm, swallowing it even as it tries to wiggle and squirm its way back into existence. The cat toys with the mouse as the dog toys with the cat. Such monotonous happenings, yet so cruel.

Furthermore, not everything is black and white, night and day. There are shadows slinking and twisting even in the brightest sunlight; there are illuminations reaching for life even in the darkest night. Where there is black and white, there will always be grey. Grey. A median that sends confusion into the fog of Ciel Phantomhive's sanity -his understanding, for before his "turning", there has always been solely black and white. The world has always sent him monochrome kisses: kill or be killed, patience or exasperation, love or hate. There has been either God watching over him, or the Devil.

**Now, everything has changed.**

God is watching, Ciel has realized, as well as Lucifer. He has thought (merely a few days ago, in fact) that God had forsaken him, had turned his eyes away, but has He really? Ciel is still alive, after all; that fact was something he couldn't bring himself to relate to Lucifer. Changed, but he's still breathing the same air that he has been for the past thirteen years. But now, Ciel's eyes burn the sinful color of lust, despair, hunger, life, and he finds himself pondering whether he is cursed by God, or blessed by the Devil. He is given the gift of life, unlike the worms swallowed by the robin, but he is cursed to hunger for all eternity, his body the epitome of a black hole. He is blessed to live forevermore with the demon who has been guarding him, keeping him, preparing his soul since That Day, but has been cursed to feel the pestering, annoyingly aching emotion of, dare he admit, _sympathy_ for the demon. Damn it. The single emotion that he houses bubbles up through him every time his crimson, snake-slitted eyes meet his butler's, pathetically disguised by a smirk of satisfaction. But such mundane human emotions should be beneath him. Especially now, now that his own humanity is beyond his reach.

Now that the demon-ling knows what his butler is feeling (the hunger, the yearning, the emptiness), it confuses him even more as to why Sebastian stays by his side. The eternal black knight remains by the side of the white king, even though the knight has lost his chance of stealing away the snow-white purity of the king's soul for himself. Even though the king's white façade is stained, tainted, by the darkness within. The thought perplexes Ciel as he attempts to sleep.

**Because the world is no longer black and white.**

"Young master, it is time to wake up."

The demon-ling's eyes flutter open, and Ciel sits up on his elbows as his ever-present butler pulls apart the curtains. Ciel hisses as he squints his blood-colored orbs, the sun breaking through the window glass with golden-red fingers and penetrating his vision with stabs of dark dots. Sebastian's smile is plastered on his face, as usual. But oddly, as he recognizes the utter artificiality of the grin, Ciel feels his bile slowly, tauntingly, rise up his throat, almost as if the vomit itself is making a mockery of him. _"Why care about his hunger?"_ it seems to say, _"You're alive, after all. You've escaped the devil's grasp."_ But his escape isn't a respite for his sanity -it never was. He has been willing from the very beginning to give this demon everything….

Ciel sits up and swings his legs off the bed, watching silently as his demon butler rolls towards him a set of china situated on a white-clothed tea table, each teacup and saucer as empty as the shell he calls his body. He doesn't listen to the velvet-soft droning of his servant as the table is placed in front of him. Sebastian is, as was the morning ritual, merely informing the young earl what (imaginary) breakfast he is to have. Ciel doesn't pay attention; he only stares at the infuriating smile that never once leaves the butler's face, eyes closed almost merrily so the earl can never witness the blood-jeweled eyes so empty of emotion.

"As for your schedule for the-"

"Sebastian," the young demon finally whispers, albeit a bit rudely, forcing all the authority that he could muster at such a God-forsaken hour into his voice. The butler's mouth obediently closes, and his eyelids flutter open, his long eyelashes casting delicate shadows over the garnet orbs and a mockingly surprised expression plasters itself onto his face. The bloody twit.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Quit screwing around."

Sebastian raises an elegant eyebrow, having the audacity to appear baffled. As if he doesn't understand the aura of fluctuating pain emanating from the young boy as he watches the demon butler perform for him like a puppet on strings. No. Sebastian is more than just a puppet, more than just a chess piece. Now, now that the world is no longer in monochrome, now that the demon-ling is to be considered dead by all those whom he once knew in his former life, his butler is all he has left. Loathe as he is to acknowledge it, Ciel _needs_ Sebastian, but not like this. Not when the ever-present butler is no longer ever-present. Not when the demon is merely performing on a stage, held together by the strings connected to his little finger. Not like this.

**And not everything is as it seems.**

"My lord?"

Ciel hates that voice, loves that voice, embraces that voice, denies that voice. The only voice sultry with the promise of pleasure and pain, happiness and despair. It is silky smooth and curling, like a poisonous vapor, drifting through his eardrums, wrapping itself around his mind, and seeping into the confines of his heart, squeezing it until it hurts, hurts, hurts_hurtsHURTS!_ But the boy will be damned if he reveals this inner turmoil -so manifesting, so real- to the man standing before him.

"I told you to quit screwing around with me. I no longer have a soul you can devour, do I? Why are you still here?" His voice is cloaked by the normal, cool fabric of haughtiness, with white-hot agony laced into the seams.

Silken lips twitch upward, blood-colored eyes glimmering with amusement. Oh, how Ciel wishes to wipe that smirk off his butler's face! But the feeling is neutralized by a hopeful sense of imminent relief. Maybe, just maybe….

"My lord, why ever do you ask me such a silly question? I am your butler, am I not? And as such, I belong to you, body and soul, down to the very last hair on my head."

A scowl twists the pretty boy's china-doll face, his blue-black hair casting shadows on his pale features as he considers his butler's words. Then, his pink lips move of their own accord.

"Then why do you appear as though you've just died?"

Garnet eyes blink. Ciel continues, the walls around his heart crumbling like the walls of Jericho, though his common sense is screaming at him to stop and fix the barriers that for so long have been protecting him. Voices scream in his head to revive the thorny, blood-dipped white roses that are beginning to wilt.

"Do you think me a fool? You have lost your chance to devour my soul, Sebastian," his voice is almost miserable, even as he fights to keep the sound careless, arrogant. "You have every right to leave my side, and yet here you are, like a miserable, lost _dog_. I cannot even stand the sight of you."

The smirk is back, growing and smothering, as if the silken lips are attempting to devour his butler's face. Black pupils narrow into slits as vermilion irises glimmer with a blazing concoction of contempt, amusement, humiliation, anger, and an emotion so close to fondness that goose bumps race down Ciel's arms.

**For something once lost will never return.**

Before the demon child realizes it, those eyes are in front of his, nose touching nose, black hair snaking down his porcelain forehead with soft, slithering coils as a gloved hand caresses the boy's cheek before clamping down on his chin. The scent of white roses and decaying apples drifts over the boy's face, as silky-smooth and sweet as a caress from a butterfly's wings.

"Woof." A dark chuckle here as crimson, devil-slitted eyes flicker blue in astonishment. Silence. "My, my, Young Master," the demon butler suddenly continues, watching in amusement as heat tinged the demon-lings face an endearing pink. "It seems that you're almost sympathetic of my situation. Is my plight causing you so much pain?"

Ciel can't move, his eyes locked onto his butler's, a mere bird in the eyes of a snake. A robin that has devoured others, slowly being devoured by the vermilion, snake-like eyes of his servant himself. The blush deepens, even as he forces his own eyes to narrow in defiance, his voice tumbling away on fleeting, unfelt winds.

Sebastian's gaze softens. "You truly are such a kind,_ considerate_ master."

"Nonsense," Ciel finally voiced, although the word was nothing more than a weak rush of air. "I am neither kind nor considerate. And it is not 'sympathetic' to allow the payment for your troubles be stolen away from right under my nose. It is downright selfishness. Cruelty."

The child tears his eyes away from Sebastian's, forcing his countenance to cool. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he whispered….

"Therefore, Sebastian, I set you free."

**And monochrome kisses will never have color.**

Silence. Silence hangs thick in the air, choking him, as if a gossamer has been tied around his mouth, throat, lungs. Ciel finds himself unable to breathe as his heart aches inside of his chest, yet he hasn't regretted his words. He won't regret his words.

Ciel's eyes flicker back to his butler, still so close that he could feel the caress of sweetly perfumed breath from his lips. Why hasn't he left? Why is he still standing here? Frustration curls within the demon-lings heart, jabbing it with the thorns of sullied roses and knives of rusted steel. A scowl situates itself onto the porcelain face, the same face that somehow seems so much older, so much more tired, than the actual age of its master. The air hangs heavy with the aura of loss, as if the whole world is mourning the plights of the two demons; one of reluctant defeat, and one of willing suffering. Thick, suffocating, drowning, _can't breathe!_

"I said-"

"_No_, master," Sebastian cut in.

Sharp gasp of breath. Eyes wide in shock.

"You do remember your order from before, do you not?" the butler murmurs, his vermillion orbs reverting back to garnet jewels. His gaze softens, every ounce of contempt, humiliation, anger, and mocking, mocking affection twisting and turning and contorting until Ciel finds himself dizzy and lost in their spell. But what lies beneath those orbs is something even more potent, something more genuine, but Ciel can't think of what it is for the life of him.

"Remind me," is the flaky reply.

" 'I will never stop. Nor will I ever regret moving forward. So…I command you. Do not betray me. Always stay by my side…. No matter what!' Is that not your order, my lord?"

With a hum of approval, the scowl on the young earl dims, and his eyes soften affectionately for a sliver of an instant. "Yes; I remember that."

"Then, I shall never leave you."

**Unless painted with acceptance.**

Soft lips brush against Ciel's, comforting, reassuring, as if repeating Sebastian's words over and over,_ "…shall never leave you, never leave you, never…"_ The demon-ling's heart pounds in his head, hammers in his throat, throbs in his chest. Blood roars in his ears, muting any and all sounds in the room: the soft clacking of chinaware as Sebastian gracefully nudges the cart away, the sheets as they rumple beneath the weight of the boy's small body as he falls, falls, falls back to the bed, the heat of Sebastian's chest above him and the pressure of the mattress underneath. His nerves tingle blissfully as lips meet, a foreign tongue sweeping palpably against his bottom lip. The small mouth opens, tongues dancing, wrapping, rubbing like twin snakes; stomach churning with butterflies, moans escaping, body shuddering. Accepting, wanting, yearning, needing more!

Sebastian breaks away, earning himself an involuntary whimper from the boy beneath him. Garnet eyes sweep over the young earl, whose pastel body is flushed, trembling, small hands reaching up to pull him down. The butler leans down, complying but not submitting, and his forehead meets Ciel's; nose brushes against tiny nose, soft breath brushes against blood-tinged cheeks and small, trembling lips. The butler's lips glide easily into a lovely, sultry smile, before he pulls back up. A frown forms on the doll-like face of his master, his eyes flashing annoyance.

"Now, Young Master," the demon whispers, his voice thick and lovely and pure like white roses with the thorns hacked off, intoxicatingly sweet and potent like wine. White-gloved fingers caress the boy's throat, laying so openly for him, young skin practically leaping into his silken touch. The demon-ling trembles, breaths rapid, his heart fluttering in his chest as if it has sprouted wings. Dark, blue-black hair curls against snow-white sheets; crimson eyes flash cobalt blue as Ciel stares up at him, insistent, persuasive, surreal. "Would you like me to teach you about life as a demon?"

"_Must_ you?" Ciel replied, impatience and grudging acceptance clashing together and dripping with every word. "I would rather you not talk, Sebastian."

Sebastian merely laughs, a hauntingly beautiful sound that is thick with amusement. His lips twitch upward into a warm smile that (finally) reaches his eyes. Small hands reach for the butler's garments, intertwining with the fabric on his chest and pulling him down towards the small body. The demon obligingly lowers himself, his lips pressing against the boy's forehead in a nectar-sweet, chaste kiss.

"As you wish, my lord."

**Now, everything has changed….**


End file.
